Never Nightlock
by mycastleofbooks
Summary: What if Foxface didn't eat the nightlock?
1. Reaping Day

Sunlight streams through the window of the small bedroom I share with Fawn. But I am reluctant to wake and leave the warmth of the covers.

"Fenna!" Fawn whispers.

"Yeah?" I whisper back. Neither of us want to wake our parents.

"Are you scared? For the reaping?"

"Not really," I lie. Fawn's only eleven. I don't want to scare her. I sit up.

"Me neither," she replies, but I can tell she's lying. Her body language is blatant. But Fawn is worried.

"Your name isn't in there at all. You're totally safe," I reassure her. But next year she won't be.

She nods. "But yours is in three times."

"Yes, it is." I stand up and open our wardrobe. Change of subject.

"What are you going to wear today?" I ask.

"I don't know." She pulls her covers back some.

"Didn't Mother finish making you your dress last night?" I pull out the pale pink dress from the closet. "Or is this one mine?"

She giggles. "It's mine." Fawn gets out of bed and takes the dress from me.

"This one must be mine, then." I smile, and hold out the green dress.

Fawn smiles. "I like the dots."

"Thank you." I unbutton my nightgown.

Fawn dresses behind me while I slip on my old dress. I still have work to do this morning. Work doesn't end on reaping day for me. In the factories, yes. But not here.

"Fenna-" Fawn waves her hand onwards the back of her dress. "Can you help me?"

I nod and zip up her dress. "Spin?" I ask.

She grins, ecstatic that she has a chance. Fawn twirls around, and the ruffles fan out before resting just below her knees.

"Want me to do your hair?" I ask.

She nods, and sits on my bed. I kneel behind her and braid the blond locks. She gets those from Father, and Mother claims that I get my red hair from her aunt. Maybe.

"Finished," I sing, and drop the braid over her shoulder. "Ready? I have to help Mother make breakfast."

Fawn nods. "Okay." She stands up and skips out of the room.

I sigh. Next year, Fawn won't be so safe.

I do have to help Mother make breakfast, but I have some time first.

The stairs creak as I make my way to the kitchen. My shoes would make no noise if it weren't for the old house.

I tie on an apron, and go out into the yard. I pick the vegetables that are growing, and look in the herb garden. The apothecary has to get its medicine from somewhere. We grow most of them, but some I gather from the meadow.

I fill my basket and take it inside to the storeroom. Returning to the kitchen, I hang up my apron.

Mother doesn't speak as I help stir the pot. Mornings never were her best time.

I sit down with my parents and eat breakfast. Our mornings are usually quiet, and today is like no other, reaping or not. It's not like I have to worry, but I still have the unsettling thought of being picked. I brush it aside, though, and return to my oatmeal.

I can't help but think of the children at the home, eating their oatmeal. But theirs is made from their tesserae.

It could have been me. A simple twist of fate, sending myself spiraling into the world unloved and unwanted.

But it wasn't me.

The reaping is at ten. The apothecary is closed today, and there's no schooling. Not that I would go. Schooling ends at twelve, and then you go to the power plants. Unless you have a job elsewhere, like my parents do. I joined them two years ago, and Fawn will too soon.

I gather up the wrapped package left on the apothecary counter. A girl from the home was here yesterday, asking for medicine for one of the sick children. Father prepared the brew last night, and I have to deliver it now.

It's chilly outside. I wish I had thought to bring my shawl, but it's too late now.

I approach the door of the home. The district seems melancholy, with fog over the horizon and no breeze. I knock, a solid sound on the hollow wooden door.

The door creaks open, and the same girl from last night opens it. "Oh, good, you're finally here. Wilda isn't getting any better." Her tone is annoyed, as if I took too long getting here.

I unwrap the medicine and hand the girl the small plastic case. "She's supposed to just eat it all now." The chunks of peanut butter mixed with the cough medicine rattle.

The girl snatches the container and stows it in her pocket. "How much do I owe you?" she asks, giving me a glare.

I'm confused as to why she's angry. I delivered the medicine, didn't I? "My father said that he'd come by after the reaping."

"If Wilda's still here, you mean."

I nod, but she throws more words at me before I have a chance to respond fully. "If the stupid tesserae hasn't killed her yet. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"I-"

"Get out!" The door slams in my face.

I'm still stunned by the encounter as I return to the apartment and dress for the reaping. The girl was brimming with anger and seemed ready to explode at me, for reasons I can't fathom. I search through my memory for any recollection of the girl.

The two auburn braids looked vaguely familiar, and I'm sure I'd seen her at the marketplace or somewhere. But it was something about those dark brown eyes.

Flashes of her fly through my mind, in the back of the school yard when I was nine, in the market when I was twelve.

And then it hits me.

Madelle Warrender.

How could I have forgotten?

I owe her everything.

"Come on, Fawn, the reaping is starting soon." My father's voice is stern.

She pouts. "Fine." Fawn puts her book down, and stands up.

My mind is still filled with thoughts of Madelle. She still remembers what happened last year, I'm sure of it. I still owe her.

And the girl, Wilda. Madelle's cousin. She doesn't have much to do with this, but she's the only family Madelle has.

We walk to the reaping in silence, and after we're signed in, my parents take Fawn and leave me to walk to my own section without a word. Not even a wish of luck. Are they so sure that I won't be picked?

The air is grim. No one speaks, not even those girls who would never stop talking when I was younger. It could be because of the peacekeepers surrounding us, but more likely out of fear.

The reaping progresses quickly, as it usually does. And then it comes to picking a name, and time seems to stand still.

This escort doesn't choose girls first, like some of the escorts do. Her name is Saria Stratos, and her most prominent feature is her golden-blond hair. But it looks natural, something unusual for Capitol citizens.

"Rift Wire!"

A tall boy walks up to the stage, hands in his pockets and head hunched over. He looks like he's resigned to his fate.

Saria walks over to the girls's bowl, and plucks out a paper slip.

"Wilda Loftwin!"

The air seems to freeze in my lungs. What were the odds?

Everyone seems to be turning towards the back. From two sections back, a stick thin girl emerges. She coughs, and slowly makes her way up to the front.

Madelle can't volunteer. She's nineteen, but she stayed on to help at the home. To keep an eye on Wilda.

It seems impossible, but Madelle is staring straight at me, from all the rows away. Her face is pleading, silently begging me.

And I know this is the only way I can ever make this up to her.

"I volunteer as tribute."

"Hey, Foxface." Madelle leans against the doorway of the room, arms crossed. It was her old nickname for me, before I started owing her.

"Why are you here?" I demand.

"Figured I ought to say thanks to you. You saved my cousin, after all."

"We're even now, I guess." I give a tiny smile, trying to keep the memory from rushing back.

"Yup." Her eyes glitter, and I know that I've gotten the worse end of the deal.

"Why didn't my parents come, then?"

"They looked pretty ticked off. Just grabbed your sister and left. She wanted to come and say goodbye, but they wouldn't let her."

The news comes at me like a punch in the gut. I didn't even get a goodbye before the reaping. Madelle's next words shock me even more.

"But that's to be expected, right?"

The words fly out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember? They thought that they couldn't have kids, so they got a kid from the home- you- and then had your sister later. I mean, you were a toddler then, but I'm sure they told you."

The look on my face betrays my thoughts.

"God. They never told you?"

I shake my head the tiniest bit. "No."

Her voice is sour, and I know her disgust is targeted at my parents. "Consider the knowledge a parting gift from me, then, Foxface."


	2. On the Train

They say your brain blocks out bad memories. Maybe that's why I didn't remember Madelle.

The train is elaborate, but I don't pay attention to any of it. I find my room and change my clothes, wanting to be rid of the reminder. I throw the green dress down the trash chute, and change into a white sleeveless dress, free of gaudy Capitol decorations. I slip on white flats to match, and put my hair up.

I glance in the mirror. I look different now, enough to not let my appearance be a constant reminder of the last hour. To help block out new bad memories. The only problem is that the past can have a significant impact on the future.

I stand, and walk over to the door, turning around to glimpse my entire room before I leave. The smooth tile glints from the dim lights shining on it, and everything is a bright shade of white. I know I'll only be here for one night, yet all this extravagance is in place. Do they reuse the trains every year?

I walk down the hall and back into the main room, with several couches and a giant television. A table with chairs is behind it, and I'm guessing that's where we'll eat tonight.

Two of our mentors are sitting on the couches, talking to Saria about the "usual" sponsors. Claudia and Amber, I think. Rift isn't here.

"Hey." My voice is flat.

"I think I'll go get ready for lunch," Saria announces, and slides out of her seat. "I'll leave you all to the mentoring business." She flashes me a smile, her heels clicking on the tile.

"You're Fenna, then?" Amber asks.

I nod, twisting my fingers.

"You're with Claudia. Where's the boy?" she snaps.

"In his room."

Amber lets out a dramatic sigh. "And I'll be in mine. Someone be a dear and let me know when he comes out?" She waves a hand over her face, and stands up. Her hair swishes over her shoulders as she leaves, its color matching her name.

Claudia sighs. "Sorry. It's her first year as an official mentor, now that she's eighteen. She'll be coaching Rift, but I'll be helping out some and she'll also talk to you a few times. You know that we have five other victors, but Amber wanted to do it this year."

I nod. "Okay. And you're my mentor?" I'm not wasting time being subtle. This is deadly important. At least I'm not the one getting gypped with a mentor.

"Yes. Fenna, the first thing we have to decode is what front you're going to put up. To the other tributes, to the Gamemakers, to sponsors, to even your own prep team and Saria. You can be honest with me, because I'm the one who's helping you make this outer image. But to everyone else, you need to stick to what we decide now."

Straightforward. I like it. "That makes sense. But what is my 'outer image' going to be?"

"There're strategies and angles- don't mix them up. Your strategy will help determine your angle. If you knew what you're planning on doing in the arena, you can prep for that beforehand. What do you think you're going to do?"

Claudia isn't asking me what I'm going to do- but what I think I'm going to do. There's clearly a difference, or else she wouldn't distinguish that. "Hide out somewhere and try to outlast everyone as long as I can. If it's clear I can't win, I'd try to find some berries to do myself in so I won't die at the hands of someone else."

Claudia shakes her head. "So if it looked hopeless, you'd kill yourself."

"I'd rather control how I die, if I have to," I state. "There's a difference."

She shrugs. "You'll be dead either way."

I don't answer.

"So your strategy is to outlast everyone?"

"If I can."

"So that's your strategy in the arena. Can you fight? Even if you're planning to avoid direct confrontation... What are you good at?"

"I can fight. My... my parents run the apothecary. I know a lot about plants and herbs, which are edible and which can be medicinal. I'm a fast runner. I have a good memory, and I've been told I'm cunning."

Claudia nods. "Good, you know yourself well. A couple years back, someone had a pre-Games strategy that worked well, and I think it'd work for you, too."

"What is it?"

"A girl named Johanna from 7 pretended to be weak and helpless. Cried a lot, got a very low score in training. But only a few days later, she turned out to be deadly. Someone attacked her, and she defended herself and revealed her skill to the audience."

"And that's what you suggest I do?"

"Yes. I don't know if you'll be able to be deadly, but you should be able to put your skills to use if you're able. Except don't act completely useless and feeble. You were a volunteer, people are bound to be curious about that and it'll be suspicious if you're totally incompetent. Be mediocre, but on the lower end. Don't attract attention at all. Be forgettable. We'll worry about sponsors later in the Games. I'll trust you to take care of yourself."

I nod. "Sounds good. Any advice for tonight and tomorrow?" The rest of the train rides and the chariot rides. It shouldn't be too difficult to not attract attention. I doubt that our costumes will be spectacular.

"Yes. Keep your mouth shut for the most part here, and do exactly what they say tomorrow. Let your stylist and team write you off as another tribute needing dressing."

I nod, and stand up. "Anything else?"

"That's it. Lunch is soon, Saria will get you for that. You can go back to your room if you want."

After dinner, there's a knock on my door. I open it, coming face to face with our escort.

"We were just about to watch the recap of the reapings," Saria states.

I nod, and we walk down the hall to the main room. I take a seat on the couch next to Claudia, not saying a word.

Saria turns on the gigantic television. After the Capitol seal appears on the screen, the District 1 reaping shows. A girl with long blonde hair and green eyes, Glimmer Secula, volunteers, and so does a boy, Marvel Goldens.

In District 2, we have more volunteers. Clove Sevina, a small girl with dark hair and a smug smile, and Cato Larek, muscular and tall.

District 3 is obviously not a Career district. Everything is dirty, probably from the factories. Both tributes are reaped. The boy, Sam, is scrawny but has an intelligent look in his eye.

Now, we watch District 4. The girl, Jillin Plaider, volunteers. The boy is only twelve. His name is Ethan, and he has very curly light brown hair. He wasn't a volunteer, he was reaped. Unusual. Districts 1, 2, and 4 are considered Career districts, and they train their tributes to volunteer when they're old enough.

Then it's time for District 5, Rift and I. Rift is hunched over, dejected, as he walks up to the stage. When I volunteer, the cameras swivel towards me as I trudge to the stage. We shake hands, and are led inside the Justice Building.

District Six. The transportation district. The girl, Camryn, has a sullen face and dirty blond hair. The male, Jason, looks to be somewhat strong. Nothing worth noting, except maybe Jason's strength.

In District 7, the girl looks similar to Camryn. Same hair and brown eyes. Jeyna, I think her name was.

District 8, the fabric District. The square is surrounded by factories, and like three, is dirty. The girl called, Chloe, has curly red hair and is a rather tall for a thirteen year old. She is a volunteer, unusual for District 8. She's either deadly or stupid.

Then District 9 comes on. The girl looks just like me! Her name is Alavia, and we look very similar. Her hair isn't quite as red as mine, a little darker, but we could pass for cousins, maybe siblings. Her partner, Destan, looks a lot like the boy from 7, but younger. I think fourteen.

Now, District 10. The male tribute, Jeremy, looks strong. Very strong. He's eighteen, and the same looks as Rift, Jacob, and Destan. Just older and stronger. But his foot is crippled, and that can turn the tables. He walks up to the stage, but can he run?

District 11, agriculture. The reapings are almost over. First up, a little girl called Rue Nolina. She's only twelve, the youngest girl so far. She's small, too, with curly black hair and dark skin. The male tribute, Thresh, is muscled. Probably stronger than Cato, Jason, or Jeremy. His skin is darker than Rue's, but they have the same hair, although his is shaved short. Thresh looks like the biggest threat yet.

Finally, District 12. The coal district, also the smallest and poorest. They haven't had a victor in 24 years. The one they have is a drunk. Makes sense. Bad mentor, less chances that they have a victor. But this district is interesting, for once. The escort, calls out, "Primrose Everdeen!" Everyone watches as a scared twelve year old approaches the stage. Then, an older girl, Katniss, starts to leave the pens and run to the stage, yelling for 'Prim'. Then, she volunteers for her. Interesting. The escorts remarks that they're sisters. After all that confusion is cleared, the boy's name is called. Peeta. He looks well-muscled too. After that, the screen shuts off.

"Well, that's it!" Saria says, clapping her hands. I sit quietly, and review my mental notes. Possible threats: besides the careers, Jason, Jeremy, Thresh, Peeta. And Chloe, either she's an idiot for volunteering or she's dangerous. But you can't tell much from a reaping.

Later that night, I lay on my bed and think. What is Fawn doing? Maybe homework. So she worrying about me? There's always a lull of a few days between the reaping and the opening ceremonies. I wonder where we are. Hmm. Standing up, I cross the room to the window. Shiny buildings and well paved roads. Looks like District 1 or 2. Looks like we'll be at the Capitol soon. I sigh and throw myself onto the bed, still in my clothes. After a little while, I fall into a deep sleep.


	3. Training

Training. That's today. I climb out of bed and yank up the covers. I open the small closet to find an outfit laid out for me. Simple, flexible. Perfect for training. I slip it on and pull on the boots. They fit perfectly.

Saria knocks on my door and leads me to the dining room, every bit as fancy as the train. The entire floor is. Breakfast is quiet, only Saria and Claudia eat with Rift and I. The stylists and prep teams we met last night haven't made an appearance since we came to the floor. Not that we did well in the chariot rides, silver sparkles were never much of a crowd pleaser anyway. Amber is nowhere to be seen.

After breakfast, Rift and I walk to the Training Center without a word to each other. The head trainer, Atala, discusses the rules of training, and releases us. I go for the more practical stations first, such as knot tying and first aid. Then I head for the plants, letting myself show a single skill.

Click! Click! Click! I quickly hit the buttons on the silver keyboard, selecting which plants and insects are safe to eat. Meal-worms, yes, katniss, yes, water hemlock, no. Not nightlock. Never nightlock. I finish the machine's test in record timing. Apparently the old record was set by someone from District 11 a few years back, a girl named Mirabella. I remember that she died in the bloodbath. That doesn't really give me hope. What's the point of practicing these skills if I won't have a chance to use them?

During every lunch, I eat alone, just as Claudia told me to.

I spend some time on the weapons, but only enough to get a feel of which ones I might be good at. I prefer the smaller weapons as opposed to sword or spears. I'm rather good at throwing a knife, but the instructor thinks I'm terrible. Shame she doesn't know that I'm not aiming for the center of the target. Dejection is easy to fake.

I use a dagger, too, and I'm decent with that. Again, I pretend to misaim to trick anyone watching me. A fan with blades hidden in the tip is a useful weapon, considering anyone in the arena might mistake it for only a token.

I'm actually rather good at using the fan, but I make sure that no one is around when I practice. Melee weapons isn't always a crowded station.

I get through the agility exercises as quickly as possible. I'm not the fastest one, but I do well. Climbing walls, rope ladders, and obstacle courses are new to me, but only in the sense of the actual equipment. I was fairly good at climbing to the roof back in 5, and dodging through the crowded market.

When it's time for my private session, I go back to the plant quizzing area. I go through a several times, getting high scores with a small range. Should that be enough? I want to get a mediocre score.

I'm dismissed as soon as I stand, and I return to the elevator.

"Rift, Fenna, you're next!" Saria exclaims. I nod, contemplating the other scores. High ones so far, all for the Careers. Three is fairly low, as usual.

"Rift Wire, with a score of six," Claudius Templesmith says, and our team applauds him.

"Well done!" Layla says. The rest of the groups nods approval, but Claudia gives me a nervous look. I told her what happened. She thought that it would hurt my score, mark me as a weak target. I'm about to find out.

"Fenna Whicks, with a score of five," Claudius continues. Saria gives me a nod, and Claudia a small smile. I have done well. Distracted the other tributes, even Rift. And he's right next to me. I grin despite my secret, but I can't help myself. I've done it. This is half of the games, completed.

I watch for a little while longer. The Careers had gotten the usual high scores, and everyone else fairly low. But a few stand out. Little Rue managed a seven, and Thresh a ten. Katniss got an eleven. That probably put her on the Careers' hit list. She outscored them.

"Fenna, Rift, go to bed," Saria orders. "You'll need lots of sleep for tomorrow. Coaching is an all day thing."

I agree. Although Claudia and I have already planned out my strategy, we'll still have to discuss the interviews.


End file.
